by Bethany-Kris
He felt her lips press against his jawline as he looked back up at the sky to watch the last burst of fireworks hit the sky. All bright reds, and blues. Sparks that started out little, and then suddenly grew into large, reaching streaks of color across a black canvas. He saw those colors, felt her kiss, and heard her words all at the same time.
“Love you forever, Ren.”
Appropriate, he thought.
Those fireworks kind of felt like them, and his heart, in a way. At first, they had been nothing at all. And then something hit his fuse—her. She’d been the match against his fuse that set him on fire. Once they had started, there was no stopping them. They exploded in vibrant, vivid colors. She brought something amazing into his life—letting him see his world in something different than the normal shades he had been living with constantly. And he thought …. he had done the same for her.
They were not the same.
He was the blue, maybe.
She was the red, most definitely.
Fire and ice.
And still, they fit.
Renzo was so caught up in his thoughts, and staring at Lucia from the side as she talked to Diego like she didn’t realize he was looking at her that he didn’t even know the fireworks had stopped. At least, not until Diego started squirming on the railing and reached down to pat his brother’s arm with his fat palm.
“Can I get down, Ren?”
Renzo laughed, and easily pulled his brother to the ground. “There you go.”
Jumping on the spot, Diego looked back at the now inky sky. It was devoid of the colors, but that didn’t seem to matter to the kid. He was still just as excited now without the fireworks as he had been a few moments ago when they were coloring up the sky with all their vibrancy and noise.
Even Renzo, really. When he closed his eyes, he could see those colors.
“Can we get some?” his brother asked. “Can we, Ren?”
Renzo grinned. “Get some of what, buddy?”
“Fireworks!”
Lucia let out a small laugh. “I don’t think we can let off fireworks where we live, Diego.”
Suddenly, Diego’s face darkened with worry as he turned to Lucia. “Because they’ll make us leave?”
Yikes.
Renzo had to give it to Lucia, though. She was the one who—lately, anyway—spent the most time with Diego. When the kid was having issues with something, she was the first one to pick up on it. And she never fucking complained, either. She never said a bad word about his little brother, or the fact she was his primary caregiver at the moment. She just loved the kid—loved him because Renzo loved him, and because Diego loved her.
That was all.
So yeah, when she noticed something was wrong and brought it up to him a couple of days ago, he sat down and listened. She wasn’t wrong about Diego, either. His little brother needed stability, and he didn’t need to be scared anymore. Not that he was going to have to leave something—or someone—behind, and not that someone or something was going to be taken from him again.
Renzo was going to do his absolute best to make sure that didn’t happen, too. It was the least he could do for this kid. He’d been the one to take Diego away, after all. He was the one who gave Diego his safe harbor from the moment he was born. He needed to keep doing that, even if it seemed impossible to do.
“But maybe Uncle Micheal would let us pop some off in his backyard,” Renzo said, kneeling down to turn Diego around to face him. The boy smiled, and Renzo grinned back. “How does that sound? I’ll go see him in the morning, and ask, okay?”
Instantly, Diego’s happiness was back.
Renzo didn’t want it to keep leaving.
“Okay, Ren,” Diego said.
Done deal.
“Okay, then.”
• • •
Stepping inside the convenience store, Renzo pulled the wallet from his back pocket. He moved into the line already waiting at the cash to pay for their items, and eyed the premade firework packages behind the counter. Despite telling Diego he would ask Micheal that morning if they could set off some fireworks at his place, he’d called their uncle the night before to make the request.
Like he thought, Micheal didn’t have a problem with it. Renzo figured he could surprise Diego by buying the fireworks, dropping them off at their uncle’s place, and then just take Diego over later that night to see what was going to happen. He’d say they were going over to have pizza, and the kid wouldn’t know anything different.
Worked for him.
Diego would love it, too.
That sounded like a win-win to Renzo.
Soon enough, he was stepping up to the cash. The red-headed woman behind the register cocked an eyebrow at him. A silent question of, what can I do for you? Politeness really was a lost fucking art, but whatever.
Renzo pointed at one of the medium-sized firework kits over her head. “Can I get that middle one there, please? Thanks.”
The woman turned to reach for the kit in question, but before setting it on the counter for him, she said, “I’m gonna need to see some ID. Policy, you know.”
He might have rolled his eyes on any other day, but mostly, the request just irked him. He still had that fake ID from Tucker, like Lucia still had hers, too, but they’d never had to use them. If the woman cared to look at the picture on the ID, she was going to quickly see the guy wasn’t him. At the same time, Renzo didn’t want to ruin his plans for Diego and the fireworks.
So, he opened the wallet in his hands, flipped it over to show the ID in the slot, and gave the woman a look. “That good enough for you?”
Already, he had flipped it back around. Her gaze hadn’t even drifted from his face to check out the ID. She said policy, not law. So maybe the woman didn’t really give a damn. He didn’t know.
“Fine by me.”
She rattled off the price of the kit, and Renzo was quick to pull out the bills needed to pay for it. She offered him a bag to put the kit in, but Renzo waved her off, and grabbed the fireworks off the counter. Tucking it under his arm with one hand, he shoved his wallet back in his pocket with the other.
Stepping back out of the store, Renzo headed down the block, enjoying the morning sunlight and relatively warm air. That was the great thing about California in late September, and even in the later Autumn months and well into winter … the weather was still great. Never uncomfortable, or too cold.
He didn’t have to be back at the apartment for another couple of hours when he would need to take off for work. At least today, Todd had given him a rough schedule of what he was going to be doing which let him make these plans for Diego and the fireworks. His uncle’s place was only a couple of blocks away from the store where he’d grabbed the fireworks, so it didn’t take him long at all to walk the twenty or so minutes to Micheal’s house. He could have called a cab, but Renzo was still used to using his feet to get him where he wanted to go.
Besides, he figured if they were going to be staying here … he really needed to learn the area. What better way than on foot? That’s how he learned the streets back in New York. It was how he knew every fucking alley, and where each escape ladder happened to be on any given building within a ten-block radius around his apartment.
It was good to learn.
Walking up the driveway to his uncle’s place, Renzo thought the place seemed quieter than normal. Usually, even if it was the morning and Micheal had just gotten home from work, the man would be doing something. Tinkering with the antique car in his garage that he was trying to restore when he had time. Or playing music with the windows open. Sitting on the porch with a smoke in one hand, and a hot coffee in the other.
But the house was never quiet.
Never this quiet, anyway.
Renzo eyed the closed garage door, and the empty porch. He took note of the fact all the windows on the house were closed, even the music room’s window which was rarely closed when he visited.
In the time that they’d been in San F
rancisco, he’d made an effort to drop by Micheal’s place every couple of days just to see his uncle and talk for a few minutes. The man hadn’t needed to help them, but he had. Grateful didn’t begin to express the way Renzo felt, so he thought making an effort with Micheal might better express his gratitude than anything else he could say.
Also, he wasn’t that good with words. Renzo did better with actions.
He put the eerie silence out of his mind as he stepped up on the porch. At the front door, he raised his hand to knock on the door, but thought of his uncle’s words when he called the night before. Just come right in—I probably won’t hear you anyway if I’m playing or in the back of the house.
Still, he knocked twice and then pushed open the door when he didn’t hear Micheal’s voice calling out to him. In the entry of the home, Renzo found nothing out of the ordinary. Micheal’s shoes still rested on the entrance’s mat, and the jacket that he always wore for his sets had been hung up on the hook he seemed to prefer.
But the house was quiet.
Deathly so, really.
Renzo felt cold—he didn’t know why; there was no particular reason for that chill to seep into his bones like it suddenly had without warning. And still, he practically shivered on the spot. Stilling in place, he listened to the sounds coming from the house. Anything to tell him where his uncle might be inside the bungalow. The only thing he could hear were the normal sounds of a home.
A shuddering pipe—the hot water moving through old pipes always made the strangest noises.
A radio humming—Micheal kept one going on the back porch, rain or shine.
The TV—it sounded like the news, maybe.
“Micheal?” Renzo called out.
Silence answered him back.
Renzo took one step deeper into the house, and then another. He only stopped when he came to the entrance of the kitchen, and it was there that he found his uncle.
Or rather, he caught sight of his uncle’s sockless, blue-tinted feet peeking out around the corner of the kitchen island. Renzo froze in place as his gaze seemed to narrow in on the sight in front of him. The package of fireworks under his arm fell to the floor with a light thud. It took his mind entirely too long to process the sight he was seeing, and what it meant. In his heart, there he knew. He could tell by the bluish-gray tint to his uncle’s feet, and the motionless way they just stuck up from the floor.
That didn’t stop him from rushing forward, though. Even though a cold fear sliced through his heart, and fear was reverberating inside his veins with every step he took, Renzo still moved fast to enter the kitchen and cross the space. The slick linoleum of the floor made him slip as he rounded the kitchen island, and he barely caught himself from falling right on top of his uncle’s dead body.
Instead, he fell beside it.
That was bad enough.
Sickness crawled higher in his throat. His fingers flexed against the cold floor. He stared at dead eyes.
He saw the wire around his uncle’s throat, and the way Micheal’s mouth was stuck in a soundless, grotesque scream. He saw the note on Micheal’s chest second, though. He didn’t even need to touch it to read the words written in perfect script across the plain white, torn piece of paper.
He didn’t need to touch it, but he still reached out and picked it up. Maybe a stupid part of him thought if he focused on the note, then he wouldn’t have to keep staring at his uncle’s body. Not that it mattered because even as he held the note between his shaking fingers, his gaze continued to drift between the words on the paper, and his uncle right beside him.
You move fast, it read, but we move faster. We’ll be taking her back now.
Renzo couldn’t get up off that floor fast enough. And even then, he felt like he might be too late.
• • •
Renzo almost threw his cell phone to the ground in desperation when the second call he tried to make to Lucia didn’t go through. Somehow, his stupid fucking brain clicked that no, it wouldn’t be a good idea to destroy the only way he had to contact her.
Problem was, Renzo had only gotten Lucia a burner phone a couple days ago—she didn’t really turn the damn thing on unless he was out working, and then Diego mostly just used it to call him.
She didn’t have a reason to use it.
“Come on, pick up,” Renzo growled under his breath, redialing and putting the phone to his ear again. “Pick up, Lucia, fuck.”
A cab—empty, it looked like—passed him by on the street. Like he would if he was in New York, he tried to hail it as it sped on by. He could get to their apartment a hell of a lot faster by a cab than he could walking the several blocks. Instead of stopping to pick up Renzo, the cab kept going.
He swore under his breath, and flipped the asshole his middle finger.
Fuck you, too.
His mind was still thick with panic. His heart, pumping beats that echoed fear. He didn’t even know how he was able to walk without stumbling over each step he took, but somehow, Renzo managed it.
He was closer to Lucia.
Closer to Diego.
That’s all his mind cared about in those seconds.
“Pick up,” he mumbled into the phone again.
Scrubbing a hand down his jaw, his desperation peaked to an even higher level as he eyed the street and didn’t see another cab coming. Was he already too fucking late?
Was that what happened?
The call clicked.
Renzo swore his heart fell right out of his fucking chest.
Was that possible?
It felt like it.
“Ren?” Lucia asked.
She sounded out of breath.
He was. Just from hearing her voice, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. That’s not how it was supposed to work, though. Everything was better with Lucia. She made everything so much easier in his life.
Even breathing.
Not right now, though. Not when his worst fears felt like they were about to come to life, and there wasn’t a single damn thing he could do to stop it from happening.
He’d never felt so incapable.
So fucking useless.
“Lucia,” he mumbled.
“Sorry, I was outside with Diego. He was kicking his ball in the alley. I left the phone in the apartment.”
“Lucia.”
Her sharp intake of breath felt like a knife cutting him right to the bone. “What’s wrong?”
Renzo couldn’t make his mouth work—not properly, anyway. Not to tell her they were in danger, or what he had found at his uncle’s home. Not to explain the note that was still crumpled tightly in his fist even though it felt like it was giving him a million and one little papercuts just by holding onto it.
No, he couldn’t seem to tell her any of that.
Instead, he said, “Don’t fucking move, Lucia. Do not move.”
FIFTEEN
“What are you doing?”
Lucia straightened to her full height at the sound of Renzo’s sharp voice behind her. She spun around to find him standing in the doorway of the bathroom. The wild look in his eye was only aided by the fact his hair was a mess. Like he’d been running his fingers through it. Even his jacket was skewed, and undone.
He just looked … out of it.
His call earlier had only served to freak her out, especially when he wouldn’t explain anything to her. But when he hung up, there was nothing Lucia could do except wait for him to get home and get on with her evening. Diego still had a routine that needed to be followed even if Renzo was going through some kind of shit.
Simple as that.
“Getting Diego in the bath,” Lucia said. “Like I do every night to get him ready for bed. What is wrong with you?”
Bending over, she turned the taps off. There was more than enough water in the tub. Diego, who was probably still playing on the small veranda with his tiny trucks and cars, didn’t need much to get clean. Never mind to make a mess. He could do that with a goddamn inch of water, like al
l kids.
“He’s not having a bath,” Renzo said, turning to leave the bathroom. “Let’s go.”
Lucia didn’t move. “What?”
“We don’t have time, Lucia. We have to go.”
No, she didn’t think so.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ren. What is wrong?”
When he didn’t answer her, she followed the path he had taken out of the bathroom. A quick peek at the sliding doors leading out to the small veranda told her Diego was still safe and playing happily. The veranda’s railing was too high for him to climb over, and the railings were close enough together that he couldn’t slide through them, either. They didn’t put any chairs out there just to make sure he wouldn’t try to climb up on one and fall over the railing, too.
With the sliding doors closed, he also couldn’t hear their conversation.
Renzo headed for the short hallway that led into the two bedrooms. Lucia didn’t even think about it, she followed him without question. Standing in the doorway, she watched as he yanked the dresser in their bedroom open without care. Some of the clothes they’d unpacked and put into the drawers spilled onto the floor, but he didn’t seem to care.
His mind was on something else.
Lucia felt like hers was just starting to catch up to speed.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
Renzo didn’t even turn to look at her as he replied, “What the fuck does it look like?”
She didn’t want to answer.
She didn’t want to know.
They’d decided, hadn’t they? They said they weren’t doing this anymore. They couldn’t—it wasn’t good for Diego. They’d said.
Renzo kept moving inside the room even as Lucia stayed frozen in the doorway. He went to the closet, yanking out the two black duffle bags she didn’t want to see again, if ever. Throwing them uncaringly to the bed, Renzo finally turned to look at her. He widened his arms, as if silently asking, What are you doing standing there?
“Renzo,” Lucia said quietly.
